


Take That Step

by hearteating



Category: She Wants Revenge (Album)
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearteating/pseuds/hearteating
Summary: The party is where it all comes together.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iphianassa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphianassa/gifts).



_Side A_

It's the first night she's gone out since...a long while. Tonight's the night she goes back to normal. She's tired of everyone tip-toeing around her or whispering behind their hands or looking at her like they understand. It's time to move on.

She's got a new red dress. It makes her skin glow and her legs look a mile long. It's tight around the chest, perfect for holding her heart together. She knows she looks good in it.

She hopes he notices how good she looks. She hopes he's there. She'd asked him last week: “Hey, there's that party next Friday. Do you want to check it out?” He'd agreed, but he might not have remembered. He might have changed his mind. Maybe he didn't understand what she was really saying was: “Will you go with me? I want you to. I want you.”

She's nervous again. She thinks about calling a friend, asking “What will I do if he's not there? What will I do if someone says something? Oh God, what will I do if he is there? What should I say?”

She holds off, though. She keeps her questions to herself. There isn't really anyone she'd feel comfortable talking to about this anyway. She'd have to make them understand how she feels, and she has a hard enough time understanding herself.

She's been broken long enough. It's time to start putting herself back together. Time to start being normal again. The first step is getting out. She'll tackle step two later.

Red dress on. Hair pinned back. Make up done. She checks herself in the mirror again, and thinks for a moment about taking it all off and climbing back into bed. But she doesn't. She holds strong. After all, he might be there.

She goes down stairs. Her mother flutters anxiously, telling her that she's “so happy you're finally going out. It's been so long. You look so beautiful.” Her father looks up from his laptop and nods awkwardly at her. 

It's weird. Weren't parents supposed to give their children stern lectures on appropriate party behavior? Tell her not to drink or talk to boys and to be home by midnight at the latest? Wasn't one or both of them supposed to make some comment on how her dress really wasn't appropriate for a girl her age? Instead they're just happy she's going out. A sign of how worried they'd been.

She makes it through the discomfort of her parents' approval and steels herself for the much more intimidating prospect of everyone else's. What would be better? If someone says something or if no one says anything? She's not sure. She's not even sure if she wants him to be there or not. But one step at a time, she reminds herself. Take a breath. Don't fall apart.

She slips into the house with a group of smokers. The party is loud and there are so many people she almost turns around and walks back out. But that's not why she's here. She takes another breath and scans the crowd. He's here. He's here and standing at the back of the room, back against the wall with a cup in his hand. He's here and she has to do something, say something. 

She puts on a smile and carefully makes her way through the crowd. With every step the music seems louder and so do every one of her doubts. He doesn't feel the same way. He doesn't understand. He will turn away from her and leave her alone and everything will be ruined.

He's looking at her now. Her legs tense, but she keeps walking toward him. Keeps her smile on her face. He's here. She's in front of him.

“Hi,” she says. Her smile slips a little, into something that feels a little more real.

He nods at her. Holds up a pack of cigarettes and waves it. Ducks out the back without a word.

She can't remember what step was supposed to come next.

_Side B_

“Hey, there's that party next Friday. Do you want to check it out?”

She'd asked, all casual, and he'd agreed. Of course he'd agreed. He'd been in love with her for so long, but it never felt right to tell her. Between school and stress and everything, it never seemed like the right time. But she'd asked him, so maybe that was a sign.

Maybe tonight is the night, where he finally tells her that she's not only his best friend, but the girl he loves. And maybe she'll laugh and smile and all the stress she always carries will disappear, because maybe, just maybe, she loves him back. And he'll take her in his arms and they will make out like there's no tomorrow and everything will be perfect.

The party is crowded and hot and loud, and he takes up a position at the back so he can see when she comes. If she comes. What if she hadn't been serious? Or what if her parents don't let her come or she changed her mind or freaks out at the thought of coming to a party with so many people?

But no. He sees her now, closing the door behind her. She's wearing red, she always looks good in red, and her hair looks shiny and soft and he wonders what it would feel like tangled around his fingers. He sees her see him, and she smiles, big and bright and a little fake, and starts moving through the crowd. She's coming over to see him, and suddenly he feels sick. All he wants is everything. He wants to hold her and he wants to keep her safe and he wants to tear off her dress and press himself against her. 

This isn't how it's supposed to go. He's panicking now, can't think of anything to say and she's getting closer, still smiling that smile and wearing that dress and if there were any doubts before about this just being a little crush they're gone now. This is it. This is love, he knows it.

All of a sudden she's in front of him and her face looks softer now.

“Hi,” she says. He chokes. Doesn't even say 'hi' back, just nods at her and waves a pack of cigarettes and leaves her alone, like a coward.

Out in the cool night air he sucks down his cigarette and tries to think of how to make this right. He needs to go back in there, he can't just leave her hanging like that, not after she came right up to him with a smile on her face and said 'hi' so softly like that. 

No, he needs to nut up and get back in there. He needs to tell her how he feels and then...they can work it out from there. He takes a breath and goes back inside, looks around for her. She's leaning against a window, her eyes closed, and she doesn't look nearly as confident as she did when she walked into the party but she still looks beautiful.

He makes his way to her, shuffles awkwardly to stand next to her with his back against the wall.

“Sorry,” he says. “I just...you look beautiful tonight.” Her eyes open and the rest of it comes spilling out. “I love you. I do. I mean, I thought it was just a crush or something but you're my best friend and I swear to god that this is love. So. There it is. I love you.” 

She glances away and his heart sinks. It's out there now, and there's no taking back those words, and what if he's ruined everything?

He slumps, and his hand touches hers, and to his surprise she doesn't pull away.

“I love you too,” she says, turning to look at him. “I feel the same way.”

They should talk about this, probably, but it's too late now because they're kissing, making out hard, and she's warm and soft and her mouth is hot against his.

“God,” he murmurs against her mouth as he pulls back. “I just want to fucking tear you apart.”

She looks up at him, eyes wide.

“Do it.”


End file.
